


Lazy morning

by Muspell



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Fluff, I'm not sure it counts, It's mostly just funny, M/M, and cute
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-27
Updated: 2017-01-27
Packaged: 2018-09-20 06:02:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 322
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9478697
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Muspell/pseuds/Muspell
Summary: Yuri wakes up in his friend's arms.





	

The sun’s shining through the half way closed curtains on Yuri’s apartment.

That’s the very first thing he did when he turned eighteen: finding himself an apartment. Modest. Tiny. Cramped as hell. But his.

He wakes up and realizes he’s been sleeping sitting up again. Did he put on a movie and doze off? He needs to stop doing that: his back’s sore all over from the couch wooden frame clawing into it. 

But this is not his couch: he’s enveloped by a special warmth, a scent of strong coffee and aftershave, a soft hot breath on the top of his head.

He remembers.

 

_ They were watching b class slasher movies, laughing until their stomachs hurt. Otabek pushed him onto his lap, jokingly, so “he wouldn’t get scared”. The Ice Tiger of Russia doesn’t get scared for some shitty cheap films, he wanted to scream, but he followed the lead instead. He faked a hysterical yell and slumped back onto his friend’s chest, as he held him tight.  _

_ “I’ll protect you, m’lady.” _

_ “What a knight in fucking shining armor.” Yuri punched Otabek’s arm softly, not wanting him to actually let go. _

_ Neither of them did.  _

 

Yuri closes his eyes again, savoring the moment: he won’t have one like this for long. 

People keep saying they look like a cute couple; Otabek keeps insisting they weren’t. 

Yuri would love to have the courage to change that. Little words, little touches, a bit of flirting is not enough for him. No anymore. 

He hears his voice:

“Yura, you’re beautiful”

He doesn’t look up again, thirsty for his words as he is, trying to gather the courage to say something, to finally change that annoying title that felt like a dagger pushing through his ribs. Friends. 

Otabek’s voice, hoarse and soft, just woken up, gives him the impression that this is the day. He gives him the chance.

“Mh?”

“But you’re drooling on my shirt.”


End file.
